18+ snowed in with virgin loser nerd!choso . ⁺ ‧ ₊ ˚
the snow is falling so thick outside that the whole world looks soft and quiet and endless white. classes canceled, midterms pushed back, roads closed, nothing to do but for you and your roommate to stay curled up in your bed with the heater humming and blankets everywhere. choso is shirtless on the bed because he got too warm from all the cuddling, black hair messy and falling into his eyes.
you’re straddling his lap in your tiny sleep cami and soft shorts, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. the thin strap keeps slipping off one shoulder and he keeps fixing it with gentle fingers like he can’t help touching you.
your mouths have been glued together for what feels like forever. slow, sweet kisses that turn messy and breathy, then slow again. his hands rest on your waist under the top, thumbs stroking your skin in little circles while your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, curling it around your finger or tugging mindlessly.
you rock your hips forward lazily, grinding against the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. nothing rushed, only warm friction to pass the time on a lazy snow day.
“mmph…” he makes the tiniest sound into your mouth when you roll your hips just right.
you smile against his lips and do it again, slower, dragging your clothed heat right over the hard line of him so you can hear that again.
he’s so warm. so solid underneath you. every little shift makes your sleep shorts ride up higher and you can feel how hard he is, how he twitches every time you press down.
his hands tighten on your waist.
“mmh, pretty girl…” he breathes, voice already getting that shaky edge. “you feel so good…”
you kiss him deeper, tongue brushing his, and grind down again. a little firmer this time, pressing yourself against the top-side of his length.
choso’s breath hitches and his hips jerk up without meaning to, chasing the pressure, and then—
his whole body stiffens.
a broken little whimper spills out of him as he cums right in his sweats, just like that. fast. sudden. messy. you can feel the warm wet spot blooming against your shorts almost instantly, making your shorts cling to him, and the way his cock pulses and throbs under the fabric while he trembles beneath you.
he pulls back from the kiss with a gasp, eyes wide, face burning bright red all the way to his ears.
“oh—shit—” he whispers, mortified. “i… i didn’t mean to—fuck, that was so fast— ‘m s-so sorry—”
you can’t help the soft giggle that bubbles up. he looks so embarrassed, so cute, lips still shiny from kissing and eyes all glassy.
“it’s okay, cho,” you murmur, leaning in to press little kisses along his jaw. “really. it’s cute.”
he groans, hiding his face in your neck, but his hands don’t let go of your waist. if anything, they pull you closer.
“so embarrassing…” he mumbles against your skin, voice all whiny and small. “i’m such a—”
the words are punched out of him in a gasp when you rock your hips again, gentle, feeling the sticky warmth between you.
“w-wait—sensitive—ah—”
but he doesn’t push you away.
instead he lets you keep moving, slow little rolls that drag over his spent cock. every grind makes him whimper, high and needy, hips twitching like he can’t decide if it’s too much or not enough.
“nnngh… baby, it’s—hah—it’s too much…” he whines, but his hands slide down to your ass, squeezing softly, encouraging you to keep going.
you kiss him again, swallowing the next whimper as you grind nice and slow.
his cock is still half-hard, twitching helplessly in the soaked fabric of his sweatpants. every drag of your clothed cunt over him makes him jolt and moan into your mouth so prettily, soft broken sounds that go straight between your legs.
“don’t stop—” he pants, voice cracking. “p-please, pretty—ah—don’t stop…”
well, how could you deny him when he asked so nicely?
you smile against his lips and keep rocking, letting the wet spot between you get messier, but you dont care. neither of you have any obligations today anyway. his thighs tremble underneath you, hips bucking. his fingers dig into your hips like he needs something to hold onto.
another helpless whine escapes him when you circle your hips just right.
“ah—fuck—gonna… g’na cum again if you keep doing that—”
you do it again.
he keens, head falling back against the pillows and back arching, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a pretty little ‘o’.
“baby… baby, please, ’m—nnn— ’s so much—”
but his hips keep lifting to meet yours, chasing the friction even as his whole body shakes with it. you lean down and kiss his neck, sucking softly on the spot that always makes him melt.
choso lets out the cutest broken whimper yet, high and desperate, fingers scrambling against your back under the cami.
“so cute like this, cho,” you whisper against his skin. “all whiny and needy… for me?”
he nods frantically, tears of overstimulation pricking at the corners of his eyes. “y-yeah… all yours… just—hah—keep going, please… feels so good—”
you grind down again, slow and sweet, feeling him throb and twitch underneath you. and even when he cums all over his sweats and boxers again, he still shows no intention of getting you off of him.
i miss winter these spring allergies make me wanna die
in my head this also takes place in the same universe as this drabble
“Sugu!” You put your arms around the black haired man's neck and hugged him from the back. Your head tilts slightly to the side to look at him. Your faces were at the same level only because he was sitting down on a couch.
He turns his head to make eye contact with you. He was definitely way too close for two people who weren’t a couple. And yes, all his friends at the party noticed.
The music blasted in the frat house to a deafening degree, but the only thing Suguru focused on was your cute pouting face.
“Oh hey pretty” He smiles, eyes half lidded.
He noticed your eyebrows furrowed and you showed him your phone screen. “Who’re you flirting with? Why didn’t you tell me there was someone you liked!” You spoke just a tad bit louder than the bass coming from the speakers.
He looks at the screen to find a tweet he wrote just that morning. No one flirts harder than two people who aren’t dating
Suguru couldn’t help but chuckle. He looks you in the eyes again and says calmly, “Come on over to this side of the couch and I’ll tell ya.”
Your bottom lip juts out a little, feeling a little frustrated he wouldn’t just tell you then and there. As you make your way over to sit next to your best friend. People noticed that you were a little out of place. The way you dressed didn’t exactly scream “frat party” it was a little more “cutesy” than what people usually saw here.
Honestly, you did feel out of place at these parties, but Suguru insisted you came with him.
Although, every time you accompanied him you were a little confused. It didn’t seem like he needed a companion to these parties at all. He was social, always talking with someone, checking up on his friends, and playing drinking games. People immediately noticed that he would have you by his side at every instance, hand on your hip or shoulder, touching you in some way.
Everyone noticed how clingy he was, how he was essentially “claiming” you as his. Everyone except you. The way he puts his arms around you wasn’t new, you had been best friends since forever. And that’s what best friends do right? Be close to each other? Hands always on one another and faces being as close as possible sometimes? Yeah, totally normal!
You made your way to the couch cushion and plopped down next to him, your dress riding up just a little bit. Suguru took notice and placed his hand on your thigh, pulling down the fabric just slightly to cover you more.
“Well?” You look up at him, arms encircling your best friend's bicep.
“Hm…well what?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“Sugu!!”
God he loved that nickname, especially when it came out of your pretty little mouth. There was a reason that was his profile name on twitter.
He laughs loudly not expecting you to be so interested in his dating life. Your eyebrows knit together while your cheeks puffed out. Suguru leans a little too closely again, hand still on your thigh.
“Don’t worry I’m not flirting with anyone pretty girl.”
Across from him on the other couch, Satoru and Sukuna roll their eyes. If they could, they would’ve rolled them to the back of their heads.
“Jesus, get a room you two.” Shoko said from behind you both.
“Yeah! Stop makin’ googly eyes at each other and just go fu-”
Suguru looks straight at Satoru and smiles. He didn't say anything, but the white haired man knew he needed to shut up at that moment.
“Go where Toru?” You looked at him eagerly waiting for what he was about to say. Suguru’s mouth twitched.
“Toru, huh? Didn’t know you guys were close like that now.” Suguru’s eyes quickly look at Satoru, still with a faux smile on his face.
The white-haired man gulped, “Well- No we just-”
“Oh! Yeah Toru asked me for some notes so we ended up studying together a couple times at that one cafe close to me.”
“Ah, I see well that’s good you have a study buddy now.” You grinned at your Suguru, proud that you’ve made a friend.
“Yeah, it’s really nice, we ended up back at my apartment since I had way too much mochi than I could finish and-”
“And I grabbed it and left immediately!!” Satoru yelled quickly.
The dark haired man couldn’t get himself to keep up the facade anymore, his face dropped and he glared at Satoru with an intensity that could only be described as murderous.
The blue-eyed frat boy gulped, looked around and yelled, “Let’s do some shots everyone!!” He got up with impressive speed to go run to the kitchen. Sukuna gave a little snort, knowing Satoru was in big fucking trouble.
“Sugu? What’s wrong?” You questioned, oblivious to what your words had done to him.
“Why don’t we go to the porch?” He gives you a gentle smile and pulls you up by your hand.
—
As you two made it to the railing of the front porch, he lifted you up by your thighs and placed you on the stone bannister. You gasp in surprise, feeling a little self conscious as he places himself in between your legs.
“So you can flirt with my best friend, but I can’t make a tweet without being interrogated sweets?”
“F-flirt?” You stutter, “No no, me and Toru were j-” Suguru nuzzles himself into your neck and nips at it.
“Ah! S-sugu!” You place your hand on the spot he bit, face instantly red. This isn’t normal for best friends. You’ve finally realized it.
“What the hell has gotten into you?” You look him in the eyes.
He laughs, “That tweet was about us…” Suguru says your name in such a sweet sultry voice you couldn’t help your heart beating so quickly.
“I mean- I don’t think- do we flirt with each other?” You stutter, no longer being able to look him in the eyes.
The long haired man grabs your ass and pulls you even closer to him than you already were. He holds your chin and angles it down until your lips are almost touching. “You’re so naive sometimes you know that pretty girl?” He whispers.
Your heart beats at two times speed, eyes wide, and you had a feeling there was a wet spot in your underwear now.
“Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you how much I flirt with you.”
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
Part 2 (coming soon)
By cherryangel22 (2026) do not copy, repost, or use with ai.
perv!bsf!megumi loves looking at your boobs. they look so good.
in a bra. out of a bra. they'd look even better in his calloused hands, being squeezed and kneaded.
he's a very good boy, though, so you never notice how his gaze lingers on you when you're lounging in your living room without a bra on. or how he watches you walk, each step making your boobs bounce. megumi would never say anything. he values your friendship way too much.
so he goes back to his room and lays on his bed. an arm across his eyes, he fists his cock to the thought of you. how your boobs moved. how they were shaped. how good it'd feel to wrap his lips around that sensitive bud of yours and suck on your breasts until he couldn't anymore.
god, he wanted to leave marks all across them and make you his.
Tws: alcohol intoxication and impaired judgment; caretaking of an intoxicated person; emotional dependency and fixation; possessive and controlling undertones; power imbalance and blurred boundaries (non-sexual); mild suggestive intimacy; self-neglect and risky behavior; religious imagery/themes.
based on this selfship art.
Night was in its prime, streets dark with few lamps illuminating yellow; the moon blushing behind clouds, casting threads of rays into air. Suguru wouldn't usually be out at this hour except for two reasons only : hunting cursed spirits or picking you by your toes for the hundredth time— maybe more, he lost count. As usual, you were faltering near a place neither of you know: drunken, eyes bloodshot, rose perfume laced with alcohol, barefoot, one of your heels missing, the other's strap barely clinging to your ankle.
“You’re drunk” he said flatly.
You giggled “I'm pretty”, twirling a half spin, skirt flaring around your ankles, showcasing a nanosecond picture of your knee. the torn strap slapped your ankle with each motion, and you nearly tripped over yet you seemed too hazy to care.
“Saw a cat” you chuckled with a full throat “Black one. made a wish”
His jaw tensed “You look horrible”
“But you still see me pretty… Priest” you slurred, still laughing.
Ironically, even in your intoxicated state, your tone kept that sweet octave— not the one of being drunk and vulnerable, more of coquettish and bratty. like you knew you had that leash around his neck: he's fully aware that you're sipping up all of his jar of patience and chewing his forgiveness and spitting it back, like it's totally yours, not a boundary you shouldn't cross. and it terrifies and warms him at once.
Wordlessly, He approached you and carried your wobbling form swiftly. making you walk would waste time, after all, it's late and the twins are alone asleep at home. your arms recognized the position and went straight to his neck, enveloping it in a trusting embrace. Silence stretched as he walked, his tempo calm and measured.
“What did you wish for, Love?” He breaks the silence with the question. You hummed, five seconds before answering with another giggle “That's a secret”
“Keep me guessing again huh?”
“It's…fun”
He glanced down, finding your missing heel thrown carelessly near a bench. He bent to pick it up, inspecting it: still good, not torn like the other one. Only then did he notice that your fishnet stocking was ripped. He exhaled, never in one of these nights you kept something tidy, including yourself.
“Priest…” you whispered, saccharine, dangling between awakening and tipsy sleep.
“It's Suguru, darling.” He corrected, sliding the stockings down your thighs “and Yes?”
“I wished that you'd find me first” you yawned “Before anyone else… before morning..”
“Your wish came true then.” He threw the stockings across the room. Tomorrow, he'll throw them in trash with your heels, they were damaged, not serving any purpose anymore. He can buy you new ones— anything to keep you giggling and dolled up.
“...and in another life too…”
His eyes widened, his head quickly flew to look at you; already asleep, chest rising and falling, no care in the world for everything and everyone. he blinked slowly, memorizing your features, lines and contours melted to pure rest; your trademark sass and brat flayed to innocence and meekness he almost can't believe it. Suguru wouldn't have imagined being led someday, let alone by an irresponsible young woman who frequently runs away when bored and comes back when hungry like a cat. the thought of being in every life to be used by you should sound dreadful, yet he doesn't mind— oddly enough.
He tucked you in, planting a kiss on your temple. Tomorrow, and the day after, and next week, next month and years and in other lives, he'd be after you to save you from your handmade disasters and walk you home when you run yet again.
୨୧┊synopsis: the shopping trip you were forced to go on with Toji doesn't go exactly as planned.
୨୧┊warnings: taboo cw! + semi-smut + age difference (reader is in her 20's and toji is 34 ) + slow burn + one-sided pining + attempt at humor + slice of life + reader takes multiple L's + megumi is mentioned + reader gets objectified (not by toji) + toji is a serial hoe
୨୧┊a/n: make sure to check out my main post! ive included a pinterest board for everything described + a playlist ♡
MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part ii.
You didn't know if it was a blessing in disguise, or a curse. Perhaps a cruel joke the world was playing on you like it always did. Yet here you were again, your knee high fluffy socks skidding across the oakwood flooring of your room, scouring through your closet like a deranged cat looking for something to wear on today's decor run.
"Shoes, shoes…I'm missing shoes," digging through the furthest corner in the enclosed space of your closet, you spotted an unopened box on one of the shelves. It was a simple pair of heeled, white mary janes with a heart buckle. You got it 2 birthdays ago but never saw an opportunity to wear them, until now.
Your mother told you that Toji was picking you up at 10:30 am despite you telling her that you would go after lunch.
'He's a busy man. He said this is the only time he's free today.'
"Yeah, of course he is. Always busy doing God knows what." Sighing, you decided on your ensemble for this morning. It was rushed and unplanned, but it would have to do.
Looking at the time on your phone, you saw that it was 10:15. You've still got 15 more minutes left till Toji arrives to pick you up. Letting out a breath, you sat on your bed, shoe cladded toes tapping the floor as your knee bounced, restlessly waiting.
Going over to your floor length mirror, you checked over your choice of outfit once more. It wasn't too cold of a day, so you opted for a knitted long sleeved, off-the-shoulder, cream toned sweater dress that hugged your curves. With its hem stopping just right underneath your ass.
You were debating between thigh highs or leg warmers, but decided leg warmers looked better scrunched down on your ankles with the shoes you opted to wear. You didn’t do much with your hair last night since you were only at home, but since you were going out in public today, you felt like doing something with it. Something cute specifically, as you opened your vanity drawer deciding which accessory to wear today. Picking some silk ribbon you saw laying about, you braided it into your hair, sealing it with a rubber band and tying an extra ribbon into a bow to conceal it. And finally, you had your bag. Well, more like bear. The teddy bear backpack you had on matched well with the neutral color scheme. So, you went for it. Honestly, you reminded yourself of a doll. A doll with a pretty face, and a whole lot of problems.
Taking a deep breath, you puffed out your chest. Your confident expression stared back at you, but on the other side of that mirror you felt nothing but anxiety simmering the longer you stood there in silence.
"I might as well wait for Toji outside then." It was no use standing around in your room. The bed looked way too inviting as it only made you think of excuses not to go. You wouldn't let your bed get the best of you this time.
Walking down the stairs, you headed towards the entrance, petting your cat's furry head along the way. Upon opening the door, you were met with the sight of freshly layered snow. It was thin, barely half an inch thick, but it already had you feeling a little better with the anticipation of making a snowman with it once the days got colder. You remember there was a time when you used to do that with Toji.
God, you can't even reminisce about the past without Toji having some part in it.
You desperately needed to figure out how you were going to do this.
Last night was a bust. Not much progress was made besides the fact that Toji actually spoke to you for the first time in years. Not that he had much chance to do so sooner even if he wanted to, with you a couple hours away from home and all. But it was the bare minimum. Right now you needed a plan, and you needed to think of one fast.
Standing against the railing of your porch, you sorted through your thoughts. You're going to get picked up by Toji in less than 10 minutes. You'll ride in his car, pretend that everything's okay because it is, you'll buy whatever this party needs, and if it goes well you'll confront him on the ride back home. And that'll be the end of that.
Easy.
But when is anything ever easy when it comes to that man. Nothing. The answer has always been nothing.
This line of thought has you so deep into your own frustration that you don't even realize you've been ranting to your teddy bear backpack. Murmuring to it harshly, and rolling your eyes like you're gossiping with a friend about the latest dumb thing that happened on Twitter today.
And it's only when you see a black pickup truck from your peripheral vision pulling up, that you stare back at the bear in horror. Mind being snapped back to the present, and feeling embarrassed that you were seen like this. A man was causing you this much turmoil, that you've been complaining to a damn backpack about it.
Quickly putting your bag back on, you smoothed out your sweater dress. You really fucking hope he didn't see that.
Facing towards the driveway you paused. Your eyes widened, already in awe at the vehicle as you saw it more clearly up close.
The last car you saw Toji with was an old, red Toyota truck. It did it’s job, but definitely not without a couple repairs here and there every so often (that you may or may not have checked him out while he was doing so.) So seeing this new, shiny, black Chevy parked right outside the driveway was definitely an exciting upgrade. The wheels were lifted, making the body higher than its original design, and the windows were tinted midnight black, making it nearly impossible to see who was inside unless you stuck a cheek to the glass.
Overall it was big, and intimidating.
Just like him.
'Guess those freelancing jobs paid off then.’
*BEEP BEEP*
Jesus. You didn't even notice Toji had already parked. How long were you just staring at it for? If he started to honk at you, it must’ve been more than what society deemed normal.
Running up to the passenger side of the truck, albeit meekly, you stopped right in front of the door just as the tinted windows were being pulled down giving you a better view of the inside. There sat Toji on the other side, upper body turned and facing towards you with one hand still on the wheel.
Toji’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets at your appearance but it was quickly masked by a look of amusement.
"You busy daydreaming or what?"
Ignoring his remark, you placed your hands on the edge of the cold glass, peering up at him and around the interior.
“So, new truck huh?”
"Oh this? Yeah, got it not too long ago after receiving my payment for….from work."
You squinted your eyes in suspicion, noticing that he caught his words, but you weren't going to question it. No, you were going to let it go. You knew he wouldn’t tell you anything anyway, most likely just brushing it off as suddenly being hit with a stutter. He never spoke about his “overseas” jobs that he apparently racked up stacks of cash from, and despite him saying it was only freelancing work, you had a hunch it was something a lot shadier than that. You weren’t that dumb. Which is exactly why you weren’t going to ask.
Choosing to stay oblivious, you gave a compliment instead. "It's nice, Toji. Really."
You were about to open the door to get in and cut the small talk short (and because you’d rather bask in the in-system heating than out in the cold) but it wouldn’t budge. It was still locked. Why isn’t he unlocking the door?
Instead of unlocking the door for you like normal people do when picking up a person with their car, Toji isn't exactly someone you'd consider normal. Instead, Toji looked you up and down slowly as an awkward silence took over. You stood there rigid, allowing him to unashamedly undress you with his eyes. At least you think that's what he was doing. He’s being really bold today…does he seriously not plan to open this door?!
Your mind was running a mile per minute. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but you kind of liked the attention he was giving you right now. Especially since he hadn’t bothered to give you any last night. Not that you blame him. Looks like the effort you had put in, despite being rushed, was working, leaving him dumbstruck. You felt proud that you managed to have him speechless.
Unfortunately, your sudden boost in ego was quickly shut down.
"What the hell are you wearing?" Oh. Talk about anticlimactic.
"Huh? W-what do you mean?"
"I mean," He stood there, a single eyebrow raised, and vaguely gesturing to your form with his hand, "This."
Looking around to see if anyone else was witnessing this, you quirked your head in question. "What about it?"
"I know ya didn't just decide to go out looking like that when it's freezing out here. Go back upstairs and put some real clothes on." He looked at you sternly with a scowl etching onto the scarred side of his lip, arms crossing in front of his chest.
Was Toji actually scolding you right now? The nerve of this guy!
You hadn’t seen it right away, but after staring back at him in disbelief at what you were hearing, you noticed his own personal ensemble.
There’s no damn way…
Looking up and down at him as he had done to you just moments prior, you saw that he was wearing an unzipped puffer jacket with a hoodie underneath which was fine, you had no issues regarding that. The problem was what he was wearing below.
This man, who was condemning you on your sweater dress because it was apparently unfit for “freezing” temperatures, was wearing shorts and slides. At least he wore socks with it, if he hadn’t you think you may have actually gone back home and let him do the shopping himself.
You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, but quickly shut up after seeing Toji wasn’t finding this as amusing as you were.
This was crazy.
Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose in disbelief. “You’re telling me to put warmer clothes on, when you’ve got shorts and slides on?”
Toji was quick to counter. “It’s not the same, don’t compare it.”
“Yeah it is!”
“Look kid, I’m not gonna argue with ya. Either change your clothes, or stay home.”
That’s exactly what you want to do. But you know deep down you can’t, you already told yourself you had to sort things out with him. And the first step to that, is sorting this out.
After a couple pleading looks and adamant convincing of, 'I'm not cold!' 'I swear I'm fine. It doesn't even feel like winter out here!'
Toji relented. Letting out a sigh, shaking his head as he told you, 'Fine, whatever. But don’t come cryin’ at my feet when your stubborn ass gets sick and your mom gets mad at you.'
Now here you were, seated on the heated, brand new black leather seats of his Chevy after he finally gave in and unlocked the door, letting you in. You spent the trip with your head resting against the palm of your hand somberly, as you watched the scenery of snowy trees and other cars pass by.
The awkwardness throughout the entire car ride was at an all-time high. Higher than what it'd started out with earlier. You were both quiet; your brain a little less. Toji's disappointment regarding your attire was a total blow to your ego. You were just trying to look cute.
Not like it was meant for him anyway.
Is what you wanted to try convincing yourself in order to feel better, but really, you knew it was a lie.
As for Toji, that thought you had earlier about him ogling you? It was right on the money.
But he had to quickly save face by instead acting like a concerned adult worrying about the wellbeing of his innocent, young neighbor. If he was being honest, he didn’t give two shits about what you chose to wear. As long as it was for his eyes only.
Yes, he knew he’d hurt your feelings for telling you to go change. He understood that he was being overbearing and unreasonable especially after you brought up his own attire, but you had to understand. He physically couldn’t accept seeing you wearing an outfit that barely covered your ass like that in public when he should be the only one to see you looking like that. Yes, he was sick for looking at you that way and he knew that which is exactly why he needed you to cover up. Both so that no other creepy assholes (except himself) could see you that way, and because he doesn’t think he could control his thoughts about you for the next couple hours you have alone together. It’s why he had to shift in his seat a couple times. Though, you didn’t notice that.
This game you were playing with him? This seducing thing? With little skirts and shit, yeah it was doing something to him.
Maybe you haven’t changed as much as he thought. As they say, old habits die hard.
After about 15 more minutes of unspoken thoughts, you finally arrived at the store.
Why did you agree to do this again? Oh yeah, you didn't.
Unbuckling your seatbelt, you took a deep breath to try and regain your composure. Just focus on the task. Opening the door, you hopped down and out onto the recently snow-shoveled pavement with Toji following suit as he turned off the truck, taking the keys from the ignition and shutting the door behind him.
You could feel Toji’s burning gaze boring into your back as he walked behind you, keeping a slight distance between you and him but still enough that people could tell that you two came together. Entering into the store, you whipped out your phone, unlocking it and clicking on the notes app filled with a list of things you needed to get that your mom instructed you two to buy. You crossed your fingers hoping you could get all this done quickly and smoothly.
Obviously, life loves to humor you because things did not go smoothly.
Everything was going well at first, you scoured the aisles looking for streamers, fairy lights, pretty napkins, silver and white balloons, and whatever else was needed; putting it all into the basket that Toji was holding, still following you like a sort of puppy—or more like a guard dog with the menacing aura he carried around himself with every step he took.
Walking around you’d occasionally find something that caught your eye, tinkering around with the item for a couple seconds before putting it back down and walking over to the next intriguing thing—like a snow globe you found of a character you recognized filled with pink and white sparkly snow. You bet your ass you added that one to the basket. That hello kitty snow globe was a need, not a want. How something like that even found its way to a store like this was beyond you, but hey, you weren’t complaining.
You even found cute little hats while looking around and managed to get Toji to wear a pair of elf ears while you wore a Santa hat, telling him a silly joke about how he was Santa’s jolliest helper. That only earned you a huff, and roll of his eyes as he took off the ears and pulled the hat you wore down over your face, chuckling as he watched you make dramatics about how you were being suffocated despite being able to breathe perfectly fine.
Interacting like this with him gave you butterflies. You’d let him ruin your perfectly styled hair if it meant things were going back to the way they used to be between you both.
Everything was going fine.
You were actually having…fun. Which you hadn’t anticipated. You were so caught up about feeling like you were on thin ice with Toji, and though you still sort of felt that way, you felt ecstatic that things were beginning to feel normal. Like nothing even happened.
“Hmm, looks like the last thing on this list are more scented candles. Thought we already had some? Oh well.” You shrugged your shoulders. You think your own obsession with candles might have stemmed from your mom now that you think about it.
Toji leaned his body over your shoulder, looking down over your list himself at the check marked boxes except for one. You immediately stiffened up, not expecting him to get so close to you, and especially not for him to make body contact with you. You wish you didn’t have all these layers in the way. You internally shook the thought off before it could escalate. Now was not the time to be having these touched starved thoughts!
Pulling away from you, but still keeping close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, he put the basket down next to your feet. “Yeah, I saw a couple of those on the other aisle we passed by.”
“Oh good! One of us can get it. Stay here and I’ll quickly-“ Your suggestion didn’t even have a chance to reach the other end of Tojis ears before it got shut down.
“Nah, you stay here, and stay put while I grab it. And don’t go straying off you understand, kid?” Toji looked down at you, waiting for your answer. He’d rather not leave your side, especially since he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t get distracted by something and walk off like a lost mouse-but he tried to reason out in his head that it was only one item. He’d quickly get it and come back, and you’d still be there.
You weren’t going anywhere.
So why did he find it so hard to walk away from you? Must be some type of trauma he thinks.
Nodding your head, with a ‘Mhm! Promise. Not going anywhere. Nope, staying put.’ Toji searched your face to see if you were lying but decided you weren’t, and began jogging off towards another aisle in a different section of the store.
He couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about this as he looked over at all the scented candles, picking up the most expensive looking ones.
“S’not my money anyway..”
Maybe he should’ve just taken you along with him. It’s not like it would’ve caused the both of you any more hassle than going alone would. Shit. Something was gnawing at Toji to hurry the hell up and get back to you. As he briskly walked to the aisle where he had left you, he was met with something far worse than overpriced décor, and it had him seething.
There you were, face scrunched up, and looking highly uncomfortable as some random guy, around your age it seemed, was trying to flirt with you.
Keyword: Trying.
Toji didn’t know who this guy was but he knew damn well what was happening, and he wasn't going to let it slide. Not on his watch. That he wasn't even wearing.
You hadn't noticed Toji's arrival yet. Still preoccupied with keeping calm and trying to ignore this random man that thought it would be chivalrous of himself to make comments about your body. Saying things about how he doesn't know why your man let you out like that, and if you were his bitch he wouldn't let you out his sight.
It's a good thing Toji wasn't there to hear any of that.
What Toji did hear as he was silently coming up behind the both of you, that almost made him run up and deck the guy in the nuts was when he leaned his body down exaggeratedly to look at your ass and said, "DAMN. That's more ass than…. I've seen….in a while!"
This prick didn't even know where the hell he was going with that line, but Toji sure knew where that guy was gonna end up if he tried it again.
At this point, you were more than ready to kick this guy in the balls, but you didn't want to anger him. Who knows what this guy has got going on in his head? He's harassing you at a decor store for fucks sake!
Before you were thinking about making a run for it to the direction of where Toji had gone, deeming your situation helpless without him; it seemed like someone finally answered your prayers because the moment you looked back, there he was standing right behind the both of you.
'How did I not notice him?? He's wearing slides for god sake! I should've heard the 'plip' 'plaps'!'
"The fuck are you doing?"
The guy was still leaning down when Toji spoke up. He was about to cuss out whoever this other guy was for interrupting his daily "I objectify women for fun" hobby, until he looked up. There Toji stood, 6'2, built like he was made for war, in his shorts and slides, holding candles, and a look so threatening etched onto his face, you think this guy may have almost shit his pants. If the audible gulp meant anything.
"O-oh fuck. Look sir, I was just admiring your hard work, very beautiful daughter you have here. Didn't realize…Sorry." The way he ran away was almost pitiful. Almost. But none of you had any pity for trash.
'Well that was quick', Toji thought. He assumed he might've had to light up this candle he was holding and choke him with it but it seems that wouldn't be happening today.
That's one less crime the authorities could pinpoint on him.
Turning his attention towards you, he asked if you were alright.
"Sort of…not really. Being objectified isn't exactly the greatest feeling…" Toji noticed the way you hugged your hands around yourself, most likely trying to cover up. Suddenly feeling too exposed for comfort despite attempting to brush the interaction off.
Maybe you should've listened to Toji earlier and changed your clothes to something more fitting for winter weather. Screw looking cute.
Though, the regret didn't have a chance to get very far because suddenly you were being brought back to the present.
"Lift your arms up."
Huh? "Wh- why?" The next thing he did nearly had your heart leaping out of your chest. Taking off his puffer jacket, he nudged your arms to lift up so he could help put it through the holes of the sleeves. After checking to make sure it was on properly, he zipped it up a bit more than halfway and patted you down in an effort to make you look a little bit less like the emo version of the Michelin Man.
"You gonna be okay?" You were still a little surprised at the gesture, especially since it was coming from him of all people, but you answered, "..Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay."
"Good. Lemme finish paying for all this crap and I'll drop you off at your place."
Leading the way towards the cashier, he placed his large palm over your lower back and kept it there until your goods were paid for, and you were out the door.
Situating yourself on the seats of Toji's car, you couldn't help but feel a smile creep up on you, desperately trying to bite it back. You're wearing his coat.
He put his coat on you.
You think you could die of happiness right now. But, you'll save that for later. That whole fiasco that happened at the store still had your mood all sour. You really didn't want to go home yet. And as Toji began to pull out of the parking lot, you spoke up.
"Toji? I don't really feel like going home yet.."
"Yeah? Aight. We'll stop somewhere, I know a place."
Nodding your head, you mumbled a 'thanks', grateful that he took the hint and didn't try to argue with you or ask any questions. Toji can be empathetic when he wants to be sometimes.
Apparently, when Toji said he 'knew a place', you didn't expect it to be…this.
"Cinnabon? Really?"
"What? You don't like their cinnamon buns? We can go someplace else if you don't want em.”
You paused. Well, now that you were thinking about it…"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I do like those."
“Besides,” Walking over to the counter to order, Toji got into line, “I remember ya telling me one time that you liked this place."
He still remembers something like that?
You didn’t answer. Instead you followed the nod of Toji’s head telling you to leave the ordering to him and to go find a table to sit at. Looking around, you saw that all the tables were already preoccupied. Damn. Walking back to Toji, you suggested ordering it to go and just finding some place else to sit at like that wooden bench you saw just outside the establishment, which he seemed to favor far more.
Leaving him to his vices, you exited the shop and went to sit outside on the storefront bench, patiently waiting for Toji to get back with your food. Looking around there was still a thin sheet of snow covering some areas of the pavement, most having melted throughout the day or driven over by now. Yet it seemed as though the temperature had no plans of rising as you breathed out a puff of steam, remaining at its crisp, nearly frosty condition. It felt peaceful.
The few minutes of alone time you had to yourself was the most silence your brain has allowed itself to be in within the 24 hours of Tojis reintroduction into your life.
The oversized puffer jacket you still had on made those hours feel shorter by reminding you of just how much "excitement" had managed to happen—you bet you looked silly as hell with it engulfing your frame, but you couldn't find it in you to care about that at this moment. Especially since it was serving its purpose of protecting you against the cold that you found yourself surrounded by as you sat there waiting.
Leaning back against the wood, you felt something hindering you from going all the way. Your teddy bear backpack. You forgot you even had it on as it was hidden underneath the coat Toji had quickly put on you. Yeah, you must've looked really stupid. Fighting back a grimace and ignoring the fact for your own peace of mind, you went to remove the coat. Leaving it piled behind you on the bench as you took off your bag, placing it onto your lap.
Reaching into your bag, you took out your trusty emergency makeup kit. Wouldn't hurt to do a quick touch up… Looking over in the direction of the sudden sound of a bell being rung, you peered over to your left to see that it was just someone stepping foot out the shop with a cup of what looked to be hot chocolate.
'Hopefully Toji get's back soon.'
Focusing back on the task at hand, you clicked open a compact inspecting the state of the way you looked with the mirror. The sight that greeted you brought out a breath of relief. Not a single thing out of place. But just in case, you patted on a little bit of powder for good measure, and reapplied your clear lipgloss so the cold air could struggle to nip at your lips.
After assessing what needed to be assessed, you put your pouch back into your bag and immediately piped up at the sound of the door chiming again. You couldn't help but do a small cheer as you saw that it was finally Toji approaching you, carrying a bag containing your icing drenched cinnamon bun, a hot drink of some sort, and a bottle of water.
Handing you your food and drink, you thanked him and immediately dug in once it was within your grasp. Taking a bite, a bit of steam emitted from the warm and gooey bun melting on your tongue, flooding your taste buds with a mix of sweet and nutty spice. Damn, you were a lot hungrier than you thought. But you suppose that's due to having skipped breakfast in the morning. Stuffing more into your mouth, your eyes met Toji's to see him already sitting beside you and looking down at you, snickering.
"Hwat?" The question came out muffled from your cheeks being stuffed like a squirrel.
He looked off to the side for a second, still snickering before he answered, "Nothin."
Swallowing your food down harshly, you pouted with your brows scrunched together and took notice that you were the only one eating.
"How come you didn't get yourself one?"
He deadpanned. "I don't want diabetes."
"Right…of course not…" Such a Toji answer, you thought.
It felt a little weird to be the only one eating, but he kept refusing everytime you asked if he was absolutely sure he didn’t at least want a bite. It was silent between you two except for the occasional slurp of your drink, and you think Toji noticed it too because suddenly he started conversing with you, catching up a little bit on how the both of you have been.
"So kid, how's the university life been treatin' ya?"
"Hm? Oh uhm, it's been alright I guess." You shrugged, fork still in hand.
"Just alright? Sounds pretty lackluster to me."
"It is." You sighed.
"You tellin' me you don't, what- party? Or done those weird cultist initiations you kids do at sororities."
"Yeah…no. I'm too busy actually studying most of the time. I've been to like 2-ish? parties, but that's about it. And sororities? You couldn't possibly pay me to join one of those.” You’ve heard one too many stories of premature deaths being caused by sororities. You didn’t particularly feel like gambling your chances. Plus, you weren’t really into the whole sisterhood-brotherhood thing, too weird.
As the conversation progressed between your frankly unexciting school life, Toji recalled some neighborhood fiasco that happened while you were away.
"...Then this kid's boyfriend starts beating up the guy that tried to take her purse."
"No way! This really happened in our neighborhood? Where like.. nothing ever happens?" To think that a crime had actually happened in the most safest, suburban of neighborhoods that you lived in for your whole life and you weren't there to witness it.
"I'm tellin' ya it was set up to make himself look good. A robbery in broad daylight? In this neighborhood? Bullshit."
"Why does all the exciting shit always happen when I'm not around?" You whined, sighing out your disappointment.
Closing the box to your nearly finished cinnamon bun and placing it beside you on the bench, you suddenly remembered something.
"By the way! My mom told me you have a son? How come you never mentioned him to me before?"
And just like that, Tojis brows immediately furrowed as if the question was one he hadn't expected to be asked, especially not coming from you. Leaning forward with a grunt, he rested an elbow on his knee, propping a palm under his chin as he proceeded to look at you with the most dramatically bored expression you’ve ever seen on someone's face- one that rivaled even yours.
It screamed, ‘let's get this shit over with.’
"You never asked. Besides, why you askin' about him now?"
You noticed the way his mood instantly changed after mentioning him but...it was probably nothing right?
Regardless, he didn't seem to be exactly… excited at the mention of his son, so you treated lightly with your next words. “Well, my mom is telling me that I should start looking for a good boy to date and she mentioned your son.”
He laughed out in disbelief. “Gumi? That boy? Ha, good luck with that. He wouldn’t know the first thing on how to treat a girl.”
He couldn’t treat you the way I could. Is what he wanted to say.
Awkwardly you answered, “Well… anyway, I don't think he even goes to my Uni…I think. So it wouldn't really be an option.”
Toji stayed silent.
The sudden uncomfortable silence that took over had you overthinking all over again.
What's wrong? Does he have a bad relationship with his son? Is that why he looks irritated? Should I ask? No. He might get more irritated. Shit. Okay, subject change.
Slamming your hands onto your thighs a little too hard in an attempt to calm your nerves, the sound seemed to catch Tojis attention. Snapping him out of whatever trance he was in, and back to his usual demeanor.
You rubbed your arms out of awkwardness. “Sooo, yeah. Sucks, I wasn't there to witness a fraudulent act of chivalry right in my own neighborhood."
Toji was thankful you moved on from the topic of his son, he didn’t want to think of that little squirt right now.
But then it got him wondering…
"You ever had a boyfriend before?"
The question surprised you a little. Okay maybe a lot. You didn't think he'd be even remotely interested in your love life.
"No… I've never had one." While there was no shame in not having had a significant other at your age, still you couldn't help but feel embarrassed admitting it to Toji.
Toji raised a brow in suspicion. "You sure you're staying clear of boys?"
This behavior he was exhibiting was starting to confuse the hell out of you. First he scolds you on your attire this morning, and now he's interrogating you on your love life? He was being way overprotective, almost acting as a parent, and it was seriously beginning to make you feel hopeless.
You nodded. "Yes, Toji. I'm not interested in college guys. They don't know what they're doing,"
That answer seemed to be good enough for Toji, but to both his and your utter surprise you continued, "But I've done other things."
Straightening his back up against the wooden bench in interest, Toji beckoned you to continue on. Truth be told, he didn't want to hear you talking about boys. Just the thought of you with some dumbass little boy made him irrationally bothered. But there was one thing itching at him to ask.
One thing he simply had to know.
"Oh yeah?"
"Just casual stuff. Nothing serious.."
Toji hummed. It was cute how you were beating around the bush about whatever 'things' you've done. He'll humor you this time around.
"We talkin' the 'clothes on' type of stuff?"
"Well…not exactly.."
Your lack of elaboration following your answer made Toji egg you on further.
"Don't start gettin' all shy on me now. Let me take a guess, this has somethin' to do with how you mentioned that college boy's don't know what they're doing, yeah?
And like clockwork, the words proceeded to flow past the tip of your tongue without a second thought.
"Remember how I also mentioned earlier that I've gone to only a few parties? Well at one of those parties, I got left alone by my friends in favor of hooking up with some guys they thought were hot."
"Sounds like some shitty friends."
You grunted. "Tell me about it. Anyways, here I am, sitting alone on this couch that's thankfully only mildly sticky from whatever wasted student had spilled their drink on top of it, and this guy sits right next to me. We talk, things happen, and we find an empty room."
Toji hums, signaling to you that he's still listening.
Immediately, irritation is apparent on your face by the way your eyes narrow as you recall the memory. "He puts his hands in my pants and this dumbass can't for the life of him find where my clit is and is just rubbing around. Then he has the nerve to ask if I came yet!? Bitch I'm not even moaning!"
Toji nods, intently listening to your rant. Biting back his amusement at your outburst.
"And the same fuckin thing happens again except with a different guy I had been seeing for less than a week. Except—get this, he asks me what a clit is. Like are you for real!?"
Taking a deep breath, you tried channeling your nerves. "So that's that. College boy's don't know where the clit is—hell, they don't even know of its existence."
Slumping your shoulders, you kicked at the tiny stones on the cement with your shoe.
"It's why I've never gone further than that."
If you were being honest, even if those guys did know their way around a woman's body, you don't think you could find it within yourself to stick around for it. You already knew what your mind was banging against your skull to say. Deep down, somewhere in the backrooms of your brain, you know it's because of Toji. It's always been him; the man you're still holding out for. Hoping he'd be the one to take your virginity.
Whatever. It was a pipe dream anyway. And you definitely weren't going to tell him that.
Speaking of telling him…
‘Why did you tell him all that!? Why did you have to run your mouth!!’
You stammered out an apology. The gravity of what you just up and confessed dawned on you, leaving you a cringing mess from within.
"I-I'm sorry…I don't even know why im telling you all this-"
Toji is quick to dismiss the apology. Truth be told, he was delighted to hear that you were still a virgin.
“Don't worry bout it’. It's nothing to be embarrassed of.
“I mean yeah…but still…”
Turning to face you, Toji placed his hand gingerly upon your thigh, giving it a light squeeze in what you assumed to be an attempt at reassurance or maybe it was comfort? You couldn't really tell, you just knew that the warmth of it felt nice.
“Listen, if I’m tellin’ you that being a virgin is nothin’ to be ashamed of, then its not. Look at it this way, you ain’t a teen mom, something not many can say nowadays.” He shrugged.
He kind of had a point. Though his comforting skills were kind of ass.
“Yeah..okay. Thanks for listening then.”
“No problem.”
You thought after your little rant the atmosphere would return to its awkward state as it seems that's how it had been every time you spoke with Toji—yet oddly enough, it felt like you had somehow managed to get closer to him by opening up about your struggles.
Suddenly feeling a spout of hunger befall you once more, you took the last remaining bite of your cinnamon bun, slowly licking off the icing that had gotten smeared onto your lips.
Toji eyed the action intently, internally shaking a head at himself.
‘This little minx..’ but before you could make eye contact he abruptly withdrew his hand, fishing a phone out his pocket and checking the time. Huh, you hadn't even noticed his hand had still been on you.
“It's already almost 4, think it's time to call it a day.”
With a sound of surprise, you rose up from your seat, closing the box once more as you watched Toji stand up from his own spot, already patting on his pockets for the car keys.
You hadn't even noticed that much time had gone by.
“Thanks again for the cinnamon buns and of course, for listening.”
The ride home was spent surrounded by the sounds of muffled radio chatter, ever so slightly noticeable with the engine of the truck at a constant thrum. The sun surprisingly hadn't gone down yet as it typically would have on any other winter day and you made sure to thank your lucky stars for those few more minutes of sunlight.
On the other hand, you couldn't help but feel sad. You didn't want the day to end yet, especially not when progress had been made between the two of you. Then it hit you, progress had been made. While you didn't actually confront him about what had transpired on that faithless day, it was still worth celebrating.
Baby steps are still steps after all.
And the more you thought about it, it began to occur to you that today…today kinda felt like a date. In a messed up sense. To others this would've been a failure of a day, but to you? You were elated.
‘Maybe now's my chance to talk to him about what happened back then.’
Sitting up just a little bit straighter in your seat, you turned your head to face Toji, contemplating on the right words to say to him. Just when you were on the verge of starting your sentence, Toji’s phone suddenly began to ring, vibrating atop the center console.
Without bothering to check who was calling him, Toji answered the phone, putting it on speaker. Nothing to be worried about anyway, probably some scammer giving Toji his routine call.
“Yo, what’s up?”
Without a second to waste, a feminine voice practically cried from the other end.
“Tojiiii, baby it’s been so long, when are you coming over?? You know I miss you-”
Before this unknown lady could hope to finish her sentence, she was abruptly hung up on–courtesy of Tojis hand flying to take the call off speaker, fumbling for a good second only to ultimately end the call for good measure.
Clearing his throat, Toji continued to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead. Can't be having you both end up in a car crash right?
“Sorry about that, that was… just one of my old close friends.”
“Uh huh. Ya’ll must've been real close.”
Toji ignored the snark.
“Anyways, go ahead, what were you saying?”
“I…wasn’t saying anything.”
Thankfully the call was received just minutes short of arriving at your home. Pulling into the driveway, the truck on neutral, you waited a few seconds to see if Toji would say anything more. He didn’t.
Holding back a shaky sigh, you unbuckle your seatbelt and exited the vehicle, opening the passenger side to pick up the bags of decor that you went to buy in the first place.
“Wait, let me help ya out-” Toji last minutely interjected as he turned his body over in his seat to face you.
“No need. I already got it.” Picking up the last bag (thankfully they weren’t very heavy), you slammed the passenger door shut. You contemplated giving Toji a proper farewell bidding but with the way you were feeling right now? You didn’t want him to see the ache painted in your eyes. Instead, you continued walking down the shoveled path and up the steps to your house, fishing the keys out from your keychain and unlocking the door, closing it behind you.
Kicking your shoes off and slipping some slippers onto your feet, you laid the bags over the kitchen counter letting whoever discovered them first deal with the contents inside as you made your way up the stairs to your room, plopping onto your bed face first.
You nearly teared up at your own naivety.
Holy shit. ‘I’m so stupid.’ Was all you could think of as the booty call Toji had received replayed in your mind. This wasn’t any new information on Toji that you hadn’t already known about yet it hurt so bad.
On the other hand, Toji couldn’t help but feel the same way. When he saw you safely get back into your home, he shifted gears to reverse, pulling out the driveway and driving back to his own place.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he pulled out his phone from the cup holder it fell into amidst his struggle to end the call earlier and proceeded to call them back.
One ring was all it took for them to answer, and one second was all it took for Toji to cut them off before they could say anything more.
“Don’t fuckin’ call me again, understand? Good. Now, fuck off.” Hanging up before she could respond or attempt to call back like an idiot, he blocked her.
Letting out a rather loud groan of irritation, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands in indignation, letting his head fall as he could feel a headache coming on.
Laying on your bed disappointed, you curled up thinking about the events that transpired earlier. The whole trip felt like an actual date—up until that call anyway. It was probably the worst way the day could have ended. Your bad luck was unimaginable.
“I need to find myself a four leaf clover or something at this point…”
Honestly, you didn't want to get out of bed. You wanted to lay down and wilt like a flower that never gets any sunlight. Stuffing your face into your arm, it occured to you that you were still wearing Toji’s jacket.
“Maybe I should stop trying to go after someone who’ll never like me back…” You mumbled to yourself, sitting up and throwing the coat towards the nearest chair it could land on.
Were you really this delusional? You saw the way he was looking at you—you shook your head, trying not to overthink it.
‘I guess I had the wrong idea.’
Feeling defeated, you knew if you wanted to continue moping about this, you’d have to do it after a shower; lest you end up skipping your skincare routine leaving you with another thing to sulk about.
Restless, you tossed and turned trying to find that sweet spot that would have you suddenly waking up to the birds singing. Come the fuck on..! I just want to sleep, dammit!
Grunting, it seemed no matter where you tried to place yourself within the comfort of your sheets and plethora of pillows engulfing you, you just couldn’t seem to knock yourself out.
Only one option left.
Slipping a hand underneath the blanket, you let your fingers wander across your skin. Giving each of your tits a soft squeeze under your shirt as you slowly began to relax, sighing in content at a teasing roll of your bud, slowly hardening at your touch.
Growing tired of the teasing and beginning to feel heavy with need, you ran a finger down your panties, keeping it firmly pressed against your slit as you slowly raised your hips up and down in tandem with your middle finger, rubbing yourself over the cotton material. You could feel yourself getting hotter, wetter. A small, sticky patch of your own arousal seeping through the garment as you finally had enough, moving your panties to the side and making contact with your sickened clit. You wasted no time in parting your lips with your pinky and index, and letting both your middle and ring finger draw tight circles over your bundle of nerves. Immediately settling into a steady rhythm that was sure to have you quickly coming undone.
As your breathing picked up, so did the small whimpers escaping through your lips. You tried your best to stay as quiet as possible, but fuck was it hard when all you wanted to do was mewl out a certain someones name, imagining it was him playing with your pussy like this.
Toji.
Even just sounding his name out in your head had you bucking your hips against the friction you were creating. His large, warm hand stuffed down your panties, and cupping your pussy from behind while rubbing at the entire expanse of your puffy cunt messily. Fast. Drenching his palm in your juices. Wondering what it'd feel like to have his long, fat fingers plunge into you as your own currently probes at your clenching hole, dipping in slightly only to take it back out. It didn't feel—wouldn't feel nearly as good unless it were his.
You felt so close. Your fingers were starting to ache as you exerted them, moving it against your swollen clit quicker than before. It started to hurt, but the feeling of adrenaline rushing through you to finish made your brain block it out, replacing it with the endorphins of white hot pleasure that you anticipated to burst at any minute now.
You clamped your legs around your hand, curling into your side like a ball. You wanted to stop, it was too much. But you were so fucking close. Your shaky whines were no longer being held back, eyes squeezed shut and the side of your face pressed against your pillow muffling it as best you could to prevent it from being heard outside.
Just a little more…
Come on come on come on..! Your hand wouldn't stop unless your body reached its peak, only increasing in its pace. Holding your breath, the sound of your palpating heart was deafening as you continued letting out harsh pants.
You felt the familiar feeling of your lower abdomen tightening, coiling up and finally bursting like a dam. Your toes curled up as you threw your head back further into the pillow, unable to stop the sudden cry of Toji’s name that accidentally slipped out from your parched mouth at the pressure of your orgasm rushing over you like a tidal wave.
Before you could bask in your post orgasmic bliss, Toji bursts through your door. The fucking man himself. In the flesh..?
In a panic, you pull your stiff hand away from between your legs as if it were scalding hot oil, grasping the blanket up towards your chin to cover what you’d just been essentially caught doing.
“Heard you screamin’ my name out, sweetheart.”
You’d think any normal reaction to being intruded on by the person you were just fantasizing about would be to first ask some questions—yet there you laid calm as a cucumber, watching as he inched closer to you.
Toji smirked. “Don’t start gettin’ all shy on me now. Let me hear you scream my name again for me.”
You don’t know how he got to you so quickly but Toji was already slipping his hand under the covers towards your pussy, finding it slick and sticky from your high, smearing it all over as he ran his fingers up and down your sensitive slit.
Retracting his hand back from underneath, he relished in the way your arousal stuck to his fingers like a spider's web as he spread them out, glistening against the soft lighting of your suddenly oddly hazy looking room.
Fueled with newfound urgency, Toji threw the covers off of you, yanking your body up to stand on the floor as you both made your way towards your vanity, back hitting the edge of it as you steadied yourself against Toji's chest. It was all moving too quickly. Too fast. Before you could stop to process your surroundings properly, Toji’s large hand hastily groped your tits as his other fingers that were touching on your pussy earlier prodded at your mouth to open. Without a word, you wrapped your lips around them like a good girl, sucking—tasting yourself before he removed them in order to turn you around.
Just then, you realized you both were naked as Toji lifted one of your legs up onto the vanity, dragging his wet fingers over his cock as he moved to align it with your dripping hole. You couldn't form a thought. As if on autopilot. Only the unbridled, desperate need to have Toji in you remained.
No. Scratch that. You felt your own thoughts before you could form them, as if it weren’t your own. It definitely was though. You don’t think anyone could too how fucking badly you wanted this man. Now he was finally about to fuck you? You may as well have been the luckiest woman on planet earth.
And as you begin to feel the sensation of Toji's cock about to enter you—confirming that notion, the door to your room bursts open again.
Wait.
“Wake up.”
What?
“Wake up!”
Is that my fucking cat talking!?
“WAKE UP!”
Groggily opening your eyes, you're met with early winter sun seeping through your thin curtains, casting a hazy glow into your room. You hear birds singing.
“What the hell was that…” Stretching the sleep out of your limbs, you noticed your hand was still situated inside your panties.
You closed your eyes, trying to recall your dream. “So half of that was real?” Well, up until Toji bursted into your room, you suppose. And when your cat spoke up telling you to wake the fuck up.
Ugh.
Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, leaning over the bedside to pull your diary sitting on your nightstand towards your lap. You had to write this shit down.
After jotting down as much as you could recall from the dream without mixing it up with what you were actually getting up to in real life, you left the diary on the same vanity dream version Toji almost dicked you down on.
Throughout the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Toji. Hell, your feelings for him increased tenfold just from that measly dream alone. You don't know if it's solely your dreams doing that made you feel like you suddenly had a genuine chance with him but fuck it.
You thought about the events of yesterday and recalled when he grasped your thigh. That couldn’t have just been nothing right? The way he eyed your lips too as you licked icing off them. He didn't think you noticed, but you did. Of course you did. It was on purpose after all.
And the icing on the cake? When you brought up his son, Megumi. You didn't want to assume anything but you could've sworn you sensed jealousy swimming in those green eyes of his. How ironic.
Shit, maybe you do have a chance with Toji after all. All he needs is a little push.
With all the evidence stacked up in your favor, you knew you had to devise a plan.
You look over, and it’s him again. The tall man from before is standing to your side, hovering slightly. He looks- awkward? A bit uncomfortable, his teeth gritted, but he’s looking down at you intensely. He looks pretty, up close, like a model.
“Hi,” you say back softly, taking the bite as you turn to face him.
“Can…. Can I buy you a drink?” you see his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. It’s obvious he is nervous. It’s endearing, and causes you to smile sweetly up at him,
“Of course you can, handsome.”
Or: You go clubbing with your best friend and somebody catches your eye (with a slight twist!)
Word Count: 5,798
Modern Setting
Smut! Tags/ Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Grinding, Make-Outs, Hook-Ups, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Roleplaying as Strangers, Clubbing, Dry Humping, Oral Sex (f! Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Squirting/Female Ejaculation, Coming Untouched/Coming in Pants, Established Relationship
You can’t believe you’re doing this.
You cannot believe you are doing this.
Your leg bounces uncomfortably, not following along to the heavy blasting beat of the night club. Your shoes aren’t very comfortable, your skirt is much shorter than you remember it being the last time you wore it out, and you're feeling very…. Exposed. The strobing lights blind you, blaring pink, purple, green blue, repeating to the music you can’t quite make out. The tips of your ears burn, as you sit in between your friend, Utahime, and some man you had never met. He had hastily approached the two of you, obviously looking to score big with some drunk chick for the night. Why he chose the two of you as the victims, you’re unsure. Maybe it was your outfit, which was a compliment and a complaint. Utahime looked ready to sock him, fixing her lips to tell him off. You felt bad for her, honestly- this wasn’t exactly her scene, she had been desperately trying to meet up with her “friend” Shoko the whole night, who wouldn’t answer her phone. The two of them were in some shared class, and Utahime was utterly hopeless attempting to chase her down and maybe get somewhere- and now she was the victim of some drunken bastard's poor excuse for a come-on. Though, likely, he was about to become the victim if he didn’t stop asking her stupid questions.
As if hearing your thoughts, the man turns towards you, engaging fully, and you brace for whatever he's about to say.
“So- hah, um.. You’re a lot nicer than your friend over here-”
You swear you hear steam coming from her ears beside you. She hurriedly pulls out her phone before she gets you both kicked out of the establishment, likely focusing all her attention on contacting Shoko.
”Can I- Can I buy you a drink? See where it takes me?”
You smile politely- albeit a bit taught, and shake your head, holding a hand up.
“No thank you! I appreciate it though.”
The confusion and offense rides his fast like a rapid wave, rippling and changing before you can quite make it out. He fixes his mouth to say something in response to you, but you watch his eyes haze over, and he snaps his mouth closed.
He flips away from the two of you, cursing something unintelligible, the smell of liquor wafting away behind him.
You’re trying to figure out what to make of his response, about to chalk his response to a drunken stupor, but then you hear Utahime make a disgusted sound beside you.
“The way he’s looking at you is so creepy.” She remarks blankly, face scrunched in mild distaste, as she points past your shoulder. You turn around slowly, suddenly feeling hot on the back of your neck, and you see him.
The tall man is almost fully shadowed by the beam he stands against, lights barely hitting the peaks of his cheekbones and tip of his nose and they flicker to the beat. There’s a simultaneous sheen of metal reflecting, that you make out to be piercings on his face- the centers of his eyebrows, as well as two studded snakebites against his lips. His hair is dark and disheveled, two unruly buns sitting on the back of his head. The dark strip tattooed against the bridge of his nose is stark against his pale skin, and even more striking under the color lights. He doesn’t look away when you turn to look at him, instead matching your gaze. His eyes are dark, warm shadow and heavy liner adorn them. His appearance stands out amidst the crowd, and you have to rip your eyes away, suddenly overwhelmed by his intense eye contact.
Utahime seems (unsurprisingly) unamused, and you grab her hand quickly, heading the direction the drunken man had headed- towards the swell of people on the floor, and the opposite direction of the liquid fire gaze that awaited behind you.
“C’mon. Let’s go dance and see if we find Shoko.”
It’s safe to say you don’t find Shoko on the dance floor, but you have fun nonetheless. Music cycles, and you feel the reverberation of the best through the hollow of your bones, bounding and bouncing sound through you. Utahime loosens up a bit, indulging you in some lighthearted dancing. You distribute the weight from your heels to your hips, swaying across from her, feeling the energy of the music and the movement of your body. Occasionally a man or two tries his luck dancing over to you, shimmying himself behind you or beside you. You laugh, give them a quick spin, and go back to your friend, not paying these guys in the crowd any mind. Even if they attempted to keep you with them, or even slink behind you and grind, you were able to float away in the crowd without fuss. It feels like ages like this, and you feel your lungs squeezing against your sternum as you attempt to sing along and jump to the music at the same time. There’s no convenient lull, so when Utahime informs you she’s running to use the restroom, you take it as a sign to take a break as well.
Shouting over the crowd, you inform her you’re going to go get another drink. It takes a minute, maneuvering through the bustling crowd, trying to find your way from the dance floor to the bar, but with some careful movements you find yourself free from the sea of moving bodies. You take a breath in through your nose to steady yourself now that you’ve reached your destination. You’re intently watching the bartender work, awaiting the opportunity to make your order, repeating the name of your drink in your mind so you can focus-
“Hey,” a deep voice sounds next to you.
You look over, and it’s him again. The tall man from before is standing to your side, hovering slightly. He looks- awkward? A bit uncomfortable, his teeth gritted, but he’s looking down at you intensely. He looks pretty, up close, like a model.
“Hi,” you say back softly, taking the bite as you turn to face him. His face visibly warms under the flashing bar lights, and you can see him fighting himself from looking you up and down. He very pointedly maintains eye contact, which causes you to squirm against the bar rail.
“Can…. Can I buy you a drink?” you see his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. It’s obvious he is nervous. It’s endearing, and causes you to smile sweetly up at him,
“Of course you can, handsome. I’ll take whatever you’re having,” there goes the order you had been practicing in your head. He leans against the rail, close to you, so close you can feel the warmth of his body practically radiating off of him, and he signals to the bartender. He quickly gives his order, and glances down to find you staring up at him intently. He quickly looks away, and you huff a laugh.
You don’t think you're going to let him off that easily.
“Are you going to tell me your name…? Or, should I call you ‘handsome drink guy’ for the rest of the night.” You initiate, watching his body go rigid, seemingly just from the sound of your voice. Cute.
”Choso..”
“That’s your name?” You introduce yourself in turn, and offer your hand out to shake his. The skeptical look he gives your hand is nearly comical, scrunched brows and clenched teeth. Like he doesn’t trust it- or you, you’re not sure. Before you can laugh, he grasps your hand, and you’re surprised by just how gently he does this, and twists your wrist. Your hand lays limply in his grasp, palm to the floor, and he tentatively pulls the back of your hand to his mouth and kisses it with his plush lips, and you feel much like a princess right now as he says,
“You’re beautiful,”
You can’t help but gasp, because he had caught you off guard, for one (Who does that to a stranger?! You couldn’t say you were upset, but this had never happened to you before!) and because now he was looking down at you, under his lashes. You noticed right away that his eyelashes looked particularly full, and thick. The way his face was warmly looking at you through them, and above the peak of your limp wrist in his hand, you felt your skin warming up.
The bartender quickly slides two thick plastic cups on the counter, causing Choso to drop your hand and grab both of them, delivering your drink to you. Attempting to wash away the flush you felt rising through your chest towards your face, you quickly thanked him and took a sip through the straw. It tastes like liquor and dark soda- so likely just a rum and coke, but it's not like you really care. You take a few more hearty sips through the straw, before looking up at him through your own lashes. He’s already staring at you- like he’s watching intently for your next move.
“Since you’re being so forward, I take it you’re not here with anyone….” You swirl the straw in the cup, and watch his jaw tense, and then quickly relax, as if he had twitched.
He sucks his teeth and says, “Yeah, I came alone,”
You grin mischeviously, taking the initiative and grabbing his hand,
“Well, that’s great news for me then. Would you care to dance with me?”
Choso flexes his hand, unsure now that he is in your grip,
”Yes. Yes, I would love to,”
You needn’t hear anything else, before you're dragging him to the dance floor, much like you had done to Utahime earlier. You supposed that was just the nature of the club- dance floor, bar, dance floor bar, sometimes bathroom, then repeat. The floor is just as alive as it was when you’d left it, but the genre has switched. The beat is still reverberating through you, but now carried by an accompanying synth that feels energetic, sensual, and dirty. Much like how you'd describe yourself in this moment, as you sip from the cup in one hand, and hold Choso in the other. You decide on a stopping place within the crowd, and face him, moving his hand along with the rhythm of the music, and then moving your body in turn. Given how unsure he had presented himself earlier, you are almost surprised by just how fluidly he follows your movements. You're both just swaying gently, as each of you have cups as of right now, but it’s nice. He’s incredibly handsome, and you appreciate how… gently he handles you. You continue like this, sipping your drink, circling your hips, moving your joined hand.
You almost want to start a conversation with him again, but the speakers would drown your attempts out. You settle on watching him watch you. He already finished his drink, you notice from the lack of weight in his hand as he moves along to the music. He’s finally given himself permission to look at your body now- eyes settling on where your skirt cuts off- resting high on your upper thigh. There’s no sense in feeling shy now, but you can’t help the wave of flushing heat that washes over you. You could lie and blame it on the amount of bodies in proximity right now, raising your body temperature, but you quite enjoy the pinched expression he’s holding between his brows as he stares at your bare legs. He’s gritting his teeth again, but he doesn’t look mad, not at all. He looks like he’s grappling with himself. This gives you a new resolve, and you smile at him with all of your teeth, enjoying the buzz.
It doesn’t take much longer for your drink to be emptied, which Choso offers to stack into his own cup and dispose of for you, before you're back to dancing. There is less space between the two of you now, allowing you to press against Choso’s chest as you reconnect your hands (just for the hell of it). You hear him inhale sharply, but he doesn’t stop you as you begin to move to the music once again. This time you move more freely, not having a drink to hold any longer- and because said drink was coursing through your system already, immediately digesting in your stomach in a way that had your blood feeling warm. Blinking your gaze upwards, Choso doesn’t seem much better off, as sweat drips down his temple as he continues with the strained expression
As the music calls you to, you use his hand to spin yourself around, facing away from him. You have half a mind to feel ashamed when you press your hips back into him as you dance, but any inhibitions are quickly tamped down as you feel something stiffened behind your ass. You smile messily to yourself, and fully push your ass against his crotch, which earns you a gruff sound. Choso wastes no time, taking your non-verbal permission to touch you, and two large, ringed hands slink onto the curve of your hips. You enthusiastically lean into his touch. His hands completely engulf you, moving from your hips to the curve of your waist and back. You continue to lead him, shifting the weight from one hip to the other, so his legs follow yours, before you’re essentially grinding against him on the dance floor. You glance downwards at his huge hands, which you can tell are calloused from the rough grip he’s got on you through the fabric of your skirt.
His fingers are long, thick at the knuckle, trailing over every inch of your body that they reach to. You can tell even in this lighting that they’re pale and slender, his nails painted black catching the iridescence of the lights above.
He continues trailing his hands down you and you aren’t sure which is more intoxicating; dancing with Choso, or the actual alcohol. His fingers reach the inevitable edge of your mini skirt, and you feel them twitch as they pass from fabric to plush skin on either side. His hands are cold, a sea of goosebumps raising up all along your skin from his chilly touch. He lingers there as you continue to dance languidly on him, before trailing them back up to the ridges of your hip bones. Making his grip firmer, Choso pulled you in closer, ass fully flush against him now. You’re starting to wonder where the shy stranger who approached you went, as you found he had evidently hardened even more beneath you.
You groan at the realization, and it’s quickly covered by the boom of the speakers. You lean backwards, returning the pressure and grinding in kind, your back against his chest and your ass against his hips. You have to be honest and say it feels a little sloppy, so you imagine it looks even messier from other people’s perspective, but you can’t find it in you to care right now. Everything just felt so good. It was a club, anyways, who really cared?
You feel your body being spun around by the hips, and you follow the movements so you’re back to facing him.
“Oh fuck,” you keen over the music. He looks absolutely wrecked, sweat gleaning on his forehead from dancing, makeup smudging from the wetness of his skin, breathing so uneven that his chest heaves itself upwards. You look down at his pierced lips as they puff out hot breaths of air, dampened slightly like he had just licked them wet again. Your eyes flit back up to his, and he looks heedy. He is looking at you like you’re not on a public dance floor, and like kissing him now might prove dangerous.
Before you can be dangerous, you grab him by the wrist and drag him.
You don’t gauge a reaction, you don’t look back, you just hold him firmly and usher him through the crowd, away from the music, and turn at the first hallway you see. It’s dark, with dim lights all the way at the very end. You assume it’s the bathroom corridor, which isn’t ideal if you’re about to let Choso shove his tongue down your throat, but you charge forward, leading him all the way to the back wall. You realize there’s only one door on your side, and it’s labeled “SUPPLY”.
And there’s no one else around.
Choso is boxing you against the wall before you can turn around, his sturdy body pushing against you, causing you to brace yourself with your hands. You feel his fully erect dick fighting through his jeans just to make contact with the swell of your ass and you whimper. The music blares in the distance, but it’s too far away to cover your noises now. Even with nobody around, you are in public.
You decide to flip around again, back flush against the wall, and his lips are on yours already, stealing the breath straight from your lungs, and you melt. Melt right into him, into his mouth. You run your lips over the studs of his snakebites within his lips, and rub your hand from his waist to his chest, feeling him up. He grunts in response, flicking his tongue against your lips, as if requesting access. You can’t help the quick smile at his politeness as you allow his tongue full access, pressing your own down flat in your mouth.
It’s addictive like this. You're swapping your spit in exchange for his, and you feel him gripping your hips.
Choso is trying to remain steady. You’re far too beautiful, soft, and warm. You’re so warm it has him spinning. He feels so dirty, uninhibited now with the alcohol in his system and the crowd far from sight, he unlatches his lips from yours and presses his tongue flat against your neck and starts licking. Like some kind of animal, he’s dragging his tongue all the way up your neck, to the corner of your jaw, and then pulling off and repeating it, tasting and smelling your sweat, licking it up, because fuck, you just tasted so fucking good. He lazes his tongue over the base of your neck again, and this time as he drags upwards, he sinks his teeth into the flesh, which drags a startled groan from you. He moans into your skin, biting and suckling wetly, as his fingers bruise your thigh.
He loses sight for a moment, and begins rutting himself against your crotch. You gasp, but don’t pull away- in fact, you push yourself further into him, his hard figure, and he huffs. He’s effectively moved from the grinding on the dance floor to shamelessly humping you through the layers in your clothes. You were so good, you were everything. He was drunk enough to fuck you right here if you wanted him to. He was drunk enough to do anything you asked of him (though he was sure he didn’t need to be drunk to do that.)
bzzzt
bzzzzzzt
bzzzzt
bzzzt
A phone is going off? Your phone is going off. Your senses are lost on you right now, but they come flooding back when you put the pieces together.
“FUCK, UTAHIME!”
Choso unlatches from your neck, seemingly realizing himself, as you scramble for your phone, swiping to answer with a (clearly drunk) “Hello?”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry! I’m sorry I forgot to say I left. I found Shoko waiting in line for the bathroom-“ you hear faint laughter “And she- hehhe- we, well- I’m going over to her place right now!”
“Oh my god, yes!” you exclaim. You look back at the man with you, and Choso tilts his head as he looks at you. He looks so sweet, waiting for you, so you use your free hand to cup his cheek and his face softens.
“Yes, yes, I know… I’m trying to be cool. You’re all good though, yeah?”
“Yup! All good on my end! I’ll text you when I’m home!” you say, maybe too quickly.
“Okay, and I will tell you how this goes.” And you hear her smile. “By the way… don’t invite him next time if he’s just going to be creepy and watch you from afar all night. I don’t need to be subjected to your… whatever you guys are doing.”
“Goodbye, Utahime,” you sing as you hang up.
-
“Are you really sure… you want to do this?”
You almost feel bad. Choso looks and sounds uncertain.
“I think it’ll be fun… We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I want you to be comfortable.”
Choso shakes his head quickly. You’re laying on the bed you share, pressed into his side, looking up at him.
“No- It’s not that. I just want to be sure. I want to try something you like. Part of me doesn’t like thinking of not just being able to show everyone you’re mine…” You nod seriously. “Of course. I’m not going to accept anything from anybody else, just you, obviously. I don’t really like the idea of all the girls who might try and take a bite but…. part of me also doesn’t mind because I know I’m the only one who has a chance of going home with you.”
That sparks something. He’s looking at you like you don’t make sense to him, but like he wants to figure you out. Like he wants to unravel you, and whatever this side of you that you’re presenting to him is. “So we just- show up separately..?”
You smile coyly, “Yeah. But we’d go home together. Pretend like we don’t know each other, two strangers at the club, I think it might be fun. It’s like we’re roleplaying but… lite version. Y'know, nothing crazy, but it adds a little fun.”
He smiles at you, lazy and lidded.
“You’re kind of kinky,”
You shove him away from you, threatening on the edge of the bed, “Ugh, whatever! I’ll just go to the club myself then.”
“Wasn’t that the plan…? To go by ourselves first.”
“You’re impossible.”
-
Your phone screen is still lit, and now it’s just you and Choso in front of the supply closet. Your neck stings, and you think you might have a hickey forming and you try not to let how pleased that makes you show on your face.
You smile up at him sickly sweet, blinking your thick mascara’d lashes up at him in the way you know he likes, remembering your part.
“I like you,” you hum, stroking his face as it still rests in your hand, “I think I’d like to take you home with me. Would you like that?” You ask him, but it doesn’t sound much like a question, because you know he is coming home with you, your home is his home, but you trail off at the end to give him an opening to play into your game.
Choso huffs hotly against your skin and looks up at you. He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart, not unravel, but limb from limb. Eat you whole. You suddenly feel your skin grow sweltering hot.
“Order our ride home, please.” he pleads.
-
Your apartment is only a couple blocks away from the club, so the car ride is antsy, but short lived. You spill out of the car together in a clambering mess while you ensure you have everything you had brought out with you, and stumble in through your front door. You ignore the messy rack filled with each of your shoes, and the rack on the wall holding each of your shoes. You ignore all the signs that show the obvious life you two live together. You grin, and the door latches closed behind you. You’re flipping the lock and suddenly Choso is behind you again, moving silently to press against you. His hands start trailing from where your skin is exposed at the thigh, trailing up painfully slowly, taking in the feel of your body in this outfit that fits you so tightly. You squirm, but this time you don’t turn around yourself. You let him take the lead as his hands slide up to your chest.
He grabs your breasts, full handedly, and starts shamelessly squeezing and groping. Your body moves into it, chasing the feeling of his thick hands warming your breasts.
“You looked so beautiful tonight. You looked like you were glowing,” he murmurs against your neck, and it sends a shock down your spine, “I was watching you all night." He's lapping his tongue against your skin again, speaking only in each huff or breath. It makes you shiver.
One of Choso’s hands trails back down your body, breaching past the edge of your skirt and edging warmly towards your inner thigh. You suck in a breath, leaning your body back into the touch, and groan as you feel the hand still on your chest slide slowly. You feel him moving two of his fingers to circle around and pinch your nipple.
“Aahh-“ you whine out, and your body twitches as if it was being pulled in both directions from his touch. The sensations overwhelm you and Choso’s freehand is snaking to your front and pushing up the bottom of your skirt.
“It wasn’t just me. I saw so many men’s eyes on you,” he growls in frustration against the backside of your neck, and his hand on your skirt trails itself up, up, up your barren thighs, to your thinly covered pussy. You’ve been soaking through your panties since the dance floor, so you groan at the additional attention. “Shouldve known too. You’re so addicting, of course everyone wants you. But what did you say? I like the idea that I’m the only one who stands a chance.” Choso returns to licking your neck from the side now, and your body reactively twitches at the different sources of stimulation.
You want to point out that you said that before you left tonight, and that you're still supposed to be pretending to be strangers right now. But, you also know for a fact that Choso is likely too far gone as it is. It’s hard for him to ever keep his hands off of you, especially when you dress up for him. You sometimes think if you aren’t careful enough with warning him of what you’re going to wear beforehand, he will always fall to his knees trying to worship you through whatever you’re wearing. A few events attended with a mysterious wet stain perfectly on the nipple was enough to embarrass you into giving him a heads up.
“Chosooooo” you whined breathily. You feel his breath catch behind you. “Please take me to the bedroom…”
“Our bedroom,” he grunts, and you can’t help but giggle at that. He releases his grip on you from behind so he can lead you into the bedroom the two of you share together. It takes little time or effort for him to get you onto your bed, legs hanging off the sides as he descends his beautifully tall form to the ground, on his knees before you.
You feel dizzy, Choso’ already pushing your skirt up on the sides, his long, thick fingers catching in the fabric of your panties before urgently tugging them away,
“I wanted to fuck you on the bar. Didn’t wanna pretend- hahhh,” he’s leaning in, like you’re enticing him all on your own, drawing him in to the radiating warmth before him, “didn’t wanna pretend like you weren’t… mmmnn.. mine..” his mouth opens, tongue lolling out, as he presses it flat against your sex. Your breath catches on the hot air of your apartment.
“Choso….” you whine out,
“Fuck,” he all but whimpers, hot against your pussy as he drags his tongue against you. You moan fully, shifting on your hips. You’re propped up on your elbows, thighs over his shoulders as you watch him begin to lap you up, like you’d been starving him.
You press up instinctually, chasing after his tongue where you needed him most. He’s puffing against you, moaning into the licks. He still hasn’t removed your underwear, opting to eat with them merely pulled aside. His spit and your slickness mix, spreading and seeping onto your panties, causing the fabric to slowly become wet itself. You were beyond caring- Choso had a problem with ruining your underwear. He’d told you once he just couldn’t help it, he just had to have you sooner then the clothes could come off. That doesn’t explain how he’s jacked off with so many and stained them, but you never wanted to start that argument.
“So fucking sweet, baby” he groans, deep voice caught in his throat. His free hand grips the underside of your thigh, lifting it up so he’s assaulting your clit at an angle. You cry out, hips bucking, and Choso moans into it.
“Cho- please,”
“Come on baby, cum on my face,” he vibrates into the lapping motion, hitting the same spot on your clit over and over in a building sensation, each circle of his tongue against you causing you to jerk.
“Please cum baby, please please please-“
You cut off his muffled, sloppy begging with a shout, orgasm flooding through you, the sensation akin to putting your freezing body under the stream of a hot shower, warmth encapsulating around you. Your hips twitch as you ride the feeling out against his tongue, anticipating him to stop when all the tension in your body is released.
Choso is insatiable, to say the least. A starving man eats for pleasure, and once is not nearly enough for him. He only breaks away from the make out session with your pussy to officially discard your soaking underwear and have the ability to lift both of your hips in the air, and push your legs back into you, folded in half. He leaves you there, trusting you to maintain the position (which you do dutifully), and slides both his hands down your inner thigh, against your pussy, pulling your lips apart slightly with both thumbs on either side. The cold air stings, but there’s little time where you're exposed before he’s lapping you up once again. All your nerves feel alight at once, lit up as soon as his wetness hits against you. You moan, low and rumbling from your chest, eyes screwing shut.
You feel him, not see him, rutting against nothing, grinding against the floor as he eats you within an inch of his life. It sounds like he can hardly breathe through his nose but his mouth is fully covering your pussy, sucking and slurping, and your moans begin to turn into breathy “ah- ah- ah!”s. He takes one thumb away, maintaining the suction to your clit, as he slides his fingers down, down, down and easily into your pussy. Hole completely slick from his spit and your first orgasm, he’s able to slip in two thick fingers with no resistance, immediately searching for the exact angle to fuck you with his fingers.
Your hand frantically searches up for his hair, fingers intertwining and wrapping around the thick locks of straight black hair that have long been taken out of their up-do, hanging down across his neck, shoulders, face. You yank it out of the way, giving yourself something tangible to grip on to, and grind yourself against his tongue and fingers.
Choso whimpers again, matching your pace and pumping his fingers back into you generously. He’s still grinding against the floor, panting hotly as he licks at you. The thumb still holding you open slides up, joining his tongue in a pattern against your clit, and you wail, twitching at the sudden overstimulation to your sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Fuck, Cho- I can’t,” you cry, still lamely fucking back in his fingers to get away from the double stimulation on your clit, only to feel his fingers press firmly into your G-spot. “I can’t I can’t I can’t-”
Choso’s moaning back into you, eyes open gazing up at you like you’re a vision. Some kind of induced dream he was lucky to be taking part of. He felt like he was going to break out of the fabric of his jeans just from the sight of up, disheveled and undone by him. He speeds up the motions of his thumb, circling firmly, tongue lapping desperately each time the thumb gives him an opening.
You felt unreal, unbelievable amounts of pleasure cooking and rising within you, your hips stuttering wildly against his fingers, and you give no more warning than a hard tug at his roots, and you’re cumming harder than you think you ever have before.
You feel light, floaty, and wet. Your eyes open halfway to realize you’re squirting, a creamy rope of cum jetting out of you and into Choso’s face, you’re cumming all over him and he’s catching it all with his mouth. His eyes have rolled back fully in his head, and you’re both shaking against each other. You hadn’t even realized you’d been groaning through your whole climax, lost completely in the enveloping fire warming you from within.
You go limp, legs unable to hold themselves up, and Choso rests his head against your thigh, both of you fighting to catch your breaths. You were propped up still, smiling down at him,
“Hi,” you said breathily.
Choso blinks up at you, thick lashes fluttering on his exhausted face, and he smiles so softly.
“Hey,”
“That was pretty crazy,” you say simply. He chuckles, shaking his head,
“No, it was sexy. I love when you cum like that,”
You can’t help but smile at that.
“Is it my turn now?” you ask mischievously. Choso drops his gaze, deciding your other thigh is far more interesting, and you see him shift uncomfortably on his knees. You furrow your brows,
“Cho…?”
“…Yeah?”
“Did you… already..?”
Choso shoves his face fully into the fat of your thigh, hiding from you,
“Oh baby, that’s okay- I’m really flattered, I think it’s sexy that you cum in your pants just from eating it,” you hum, petting and smoothing out his hair in reassurance.
“It wasn’t… just from eating it. I was drinking and… controlling myself all night. You squirted too,” he protests against you in a whine,
“Regardless, I think it’s sexy. I love you,”
“I love you too,” he presses a dozen gentle kisses against your thigh. Might as well while he hides there.
“Can we clean up now…? I smell like a sweaty club,”
author's note ⸺ HEY FRIENDS!!! Chapter 5 is finally up!!. My apologies for the delay my laptop simply just hates me, LOL. I hope you are all doing well, and thank you so much for all of your comments/feedback on this series, it means the world <3
pairing ⸺ Suguru Geto x Reader
content ⸺ corporate-worker!reader, emotional tension, alcohol use, modern au, the good-ole-days trope, sexual themes mentioned, reader uses female pronouns, taglist at end, 3.4k, this is an 18+ series - mdni
divider credit: @/toastray ୨୧ art credit: @/juziluohai
previous chapter ୨୧ series masterlist ୨୧ next chapter
*3 Years Prior: Business Association Ball*
The hotel lobby shimmered with that brand of over-polished elegance reserved for galas and business formals—too many chandeliers, too much marble, and the kind of ambient jazz that made your heels sound louder than they should.
The three of you stepped in together—Gojo in a navy suit already half-unbuttoned, Geto head to toe in charcoal black, all clean lines and quiet confidence, and you in a dress you weren’t totally convinced wasn’t a little too short.
Geto’s gaze flicked toward your legs for less than a second, then up—never lingering, but not hurried either. His expression stayed neutral, but he straightened beside you like something about the sight had realigned him.
He adjusted the lapel of his jacket, one thumb brushing down the fabric as if smoothing a crease that wasn’t there.
“Remind me why we’re here again?” you muttered, clutching the tiny purse that barely fit your phone.
“Because I’m charming and persuasive,” Gojo said, flashing a grin that had gotten you both into trouble more than once. “And because they’re giving out free drinks.”
“He means because our professor bullied him into coming,” Geto added, deadpan, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as he eyed the already-forming crowd inside the ballroom.
The doors stood open, gold trim gleaming, and beyond them, the event buzzed with early arrivals—small clusters of students, faculty, and alumni already sipping from stemware and circling the charcuterie like moths around cheese.
Gojo beelined to the bar the moment you stepped in, dragging Geto behind him with a dramatic sigh. You followed, the smooth glide of Geto’s shoulder brushing yours in the slow push of the crowd.
The bartender barely blinked when Gojo leaned on the counter.
“Three of your finest cocktails,” he said. “Make 'em strong enough to make our internships feel fake.”
He tapped the edge of the counter twice for dramatic flair, then added, “And nothing pink, please. I’m trying to look like I pay rent on time.”
The bartender, a man in a crisp black vest who looked like he’d heard every variation of that line, raised a single brow before turning away.
Gojo leaned back on his elbows, surveying the room like a self-appointed social director.
“You ever think we peaked in first year?” He asked absolutely no one in particular.
“I think you peaked when you printed business cards that said ‘Idea Man…’” Geto replied, rolling his cuff once, then folding it again with careful precision.
You nodded in solemn agreement. “And misspelled ‘consulting.’”
“I stand by that branding,” Gojo said, unfazed. “It was bold. Disruptive.”
Before he could launch into a TED Talk, the bartender slid three martinis across the counter—crystal clear, elegantly brutal, each with a gleaming olive skewered on a thin silver pick.
Gojo grabbed it with both hands like it was a cursed object. “Oh god,” he said. “They’re… classic martinis?”
“Congratulations,” Geto said. “You’ve been served like an adult.”
Gojo held it up suspiciously. “I thought they’d at least taste like citrus or joy.”
You lifted your glass more carefully, giving it a cautious swirl before taking the smallest sip. The gin hit sharp and cold, like chewing ice through a fog of pine. Not your favourite. But manageable.
You could totally stomach this and pretend you had big opinions on the ethics of insurance companies.
Your eyes drifted over to Geto, who didn’t flinch when he took a sip.
A faint ripple moved through the line of his throat as he swallowed it, and when he lowered his glass, his eyes met yours across the rim—steady, dark, and unexpectedly close in the space between words.
Heat bloomed low in your cheeks before you could stop it, and your gaze darted away, sudden and sharp, like the snap of a rubber band. You busied yourself with your glass, fingers adjusting your grip on the stem as though it might anchor you from—whatever that was.
Gojo took one sip, coughed, then recoiled like he’d been personally insulted.
“This tastes like regret in a stemmed glass,” he sputtered. “Why would anyone willingly drink this? I feel like I’m being punished by the British Empire.”
You snorted, nearly spilling yours. “You asked for this.”
“No, I asked for charisma in a cup. This is… anti-charisma. This is what spies drink when they’ve lost the will to live.”
Geto, unfazed, clinked his glass against yours. “To second year.”
“And to surviving third year...” you muttered, bumping his glass gently.
Gojo, still scowling, gave in and raised his reluctantly. “Annndddd to the poor choices of the past, and the even worse ones to come.”
You all drank to that—well, sipped slowly.
Gojo winced again. “There’s something else in here. Is that… despair?”
“Olive brine,” Geto said.
“Same thing,” Gojo muttered.
୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧
Time slid by in a blur of clinking glasses and half-remembered names. You saw classmates drift in and out—some lingering for polite conversation, others waving on their way to the buffet or vanishing into alumni circles that orbited the room like planets with more polished resumes.
The air had warmed with bodies and soft chatter, jazz fading into a slightly more modern lounge mix that still made your heels echo like punctuation.
Gojo, despite the occasional impulse to flirt or flit, had stubbornly claimed a post near the bar. “Best view in the house,” he insisted, gesturing vaguely at the room like it was all part of his domain.
He wasn’t wrong—the bar sat just high enough above the ballroom floor to make people-watching an art form.
You set your glass down with a soft clink, the olive tilting in the swirl of clear gin.
The buzz of conversation around the ballroom had risen—laughter bouncing off marble, the clink of glass against glass.
Someone passed behind you a little too close, and Geto’s hand briefly touched the small of your back. Just a gentle, steadying thing—gone almost as quickly as it had come.
You didn’t say anything, didn’t look at him. But you felt it.
Gojo made a face, eyeing the crowd like he was above this all. “God. Everyone here just gets tipsy and talks about themselves.”
“Well,” you said, taking another sip, “you should fit right in.”
Geto laughed—quiet but sudden, like you’d caught him off guard. The sound of it sent a little pulse of satisfaction through your chest before you could stop it.
Not because it was loud or dramatic, but because it was him.
You didn’t say anything about it. Just tucked the moment away somewhere small and stupid and yours.
Gojo narrowed his eyes at you both.
“I’m feeling very attacked, and I haven’t even started talking about my brand yet.”
“Please don’t,” Geto said mildly, but you could see the curve at the corner of his mouth—lazy, amused.
Gojo had already tuned you both out, eyes scanning the room like a periscope.
Then he straightened, too fast to be casual. “Wait. Redhead. Nine o’clock.”
You followed his gaze. There she was—sleek hair, red lipstick, the kind of neckline that made Gojo’s eyebrows do that cartoon-arched thing.
“Oh nooo,” you muttered.
“Oh yes,” he said. “I know her. I think she once offered me an internship and then took it back when I made a dumb joke about crypto.”
Geto gave him a flat look. “I’d take it back too.”
“She laughed,” Gojo said defensively. “It just... wasn’t the right demographic.”
“Human?” You offered.
“She’s here with the Ryker crowd,” Geto said, scanning the name badges. “Probably recruiting.”
Gojo straightened his already crooked tie. “Well, I’m here to be recruited as long as she's the one doin’ it. Don’t wait up for me!”
Then he was gone, already halfway across the ballroom, weaving between groups like he was born to navigate cocktail politics and ambient jazz.
You shook your head, turning back to the bar—and found Geto already looking at you, one brow lifted, the faintest smile lingering like he’d never been surprised by Gojo in his life.
“Should we start a Gojo survival fund? Or just bet on how fast it’ll take that girl to realize he’s a total loser?” You said with a teasing smile spread across your lips
Geto chuckled, low and warm. “Depends. Is the over-under set before or after he forgets her name?”
You laughed, feeling the buzz of the martini finally catch up to you—just enough to soften the edges of the room, just enough to make the look he was giving you feel closer, somehow.
A pause settled between you, not awkward, but full.
The kind of quiet that didn’t ask to be filled. Geto’s eyes didn’t wander the way Gojo’s always did in a crowd.
Your hand tightened slightly around the stem of your glass. “You’re not gonna go network or charm alumni into funding your mysterious nonprofit dreams?”
His smile curved a little deeper, but his steady gaze never left yours. “And give up premium seats at the bar?”
You huffed a soft laugh, glancing down at your glass like it might offer a clever reply. “Big sacrifice.”
Geto leaned a little closer, elbow grazing the bar, eyes still on you as his face became a few inches closer.
“Besides,” he added, voice quieter now, “I think Gojo’s covering enough social ground for all of us.”
You followed his gaze for a second—just long enough to see Gojo doing finger guns at that beautiful redheaded woman—and shook your head. “God help her.”
Geto hummed, something like agreement, then lapsed back into that comfortable silence that had begun to feel oddly intimate.
You weren’t often left alone with Geto. It wasn’t something you were particularly used to.
Usually, if Gojo stepped away, you followed—or you went home—partly out of habit, partly because Gojo had a way of taking the center of gravity with him.
But this wasn’t the kind of event where slipping out was easy. Name tags, assigned tables, and too many professors watching.
So you stayed. And so did Geto.
It wasn’t awkward, exactly—just unfamiliar. You didn’t have a blueprint for how to pass time with him one-on-one.
With Gojo around, there was always noise, a buffer of jokes and movement. Without it, everything just… settled. A little quieter. A little slower. You could hear the hum of the room more clearly now—silverware clinking, muffled laughter, the velvety scrape of heels across marble.
Then the bartender reappeared, wiping his hands on a bar towel, eyes flicking between the two of you like he was interrupting something.
“Another round?” He asked, already reaching for your empty glasses.
You glanced at Geto. “Feel like a change?”
“I’ll just take whatever she’s having,” Geto added, nodding toward you with the smallest lift of his chin.
“You don’t even know what I’m ordering.”
“Don’t need to,” he said, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “You’ve got good taste.”
You gave a half-laugh, shaking your head as you turned back to the bartender. “Two espresso martinis. Shaken with Baileys, please.”
“Of course,” he said, already moving like he’d expected that answer.
As he turned away, you caught the way Geto’s gaze lingered a second longer than necessary—on the back of the bartender’s hands, on the movement of bottles behind the bar, then back to you. Not with any urgency. Just that same steady, quiet presence he carried like second nature.
“You always this decisive with drinks?” He asked.
“Only the important ones,” you replied, nudging your elbow lightly against the bar. “Coffee and alcohol. Life essentials.”
“Makes sense,” he murmured. “You always did show up to morning lectures more awake than the rest of us. I thought you were just naturally energetic.”
You gave a dramatic shudder. “God, no. Caffeine and fear. That’s what is getting me through undergrad.”
He chuckled again, and the sound—dry and warm and just a little private—settled between you like the start of a shared secret.
***Present Day***
“Oh god yeah, I remember that night…” Your smile curved slow, amused. “Wait… wasn’t that when Gojo tried to charm that redhead girl from Ryker?”
Geto let out a short laugh, already shaking his head. “Yup, and I don’t remember either of us being surprised.”
You grinned. “She looked like she ate interns for breakfast.”
“She probably does,” he said. “And I’m sure Gojo thought he was volunteering.”
You laughed. “He really straightened his tie like he was walking into a date and not a corporate slaughter.”
Geto smirked. “He didn’t even have his own tie. He borrowed mine.”
“Oh my god, you’re right.” You leaned forward, the memory coming back in full detail. “He didn’t come back the rest of the night.”
“Nope.” Geto took a sip of his drink, watching you over the rim. “And when we asked the next morning, he said, and I quote, ‘She had recruiting energy, but not the kind I was hoping for.’”
You burst out laughing, covering your mouth. “He totally thought he had a shot.”
“He always thinks he has a shot.”
You tilted your glass in his direction. “And honestly? I respect the delusion.”
A smile tugged at your lips as you sipped, the old rhythm between you falling back into place like no time had passed.
He looked over again, a little more curious this time. “So… what about you? Anything new? It’s been a while—catch me up.”
You gave a casual shrug, though your fingers tapped once against the glass. “Honestly? Nothing too thrilling.”
Geto didn’t say anything—just nodded, giving you space to speak.
“I ended up at that insurance company,” you said. “Kind of by default, really. It was the only offer I got after graduation.”
He raised his eyebrows, not surprised, just listening.
“And I don’t hate it,” you added quickly. “I like some of the people there. One of the analysts bakes bread every Sunday and brings it in on Monday mornings. That alone is keeping morale up on our whole floor.”
He grinned. “Bread-based workplace cohesion. Very modern.”
You pointed at him with your martini glass. “Exactly. That’s the real culture fit.”
He chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat, letting the glow of your laughter settle between you.
“But…” you went on, letting your voice trail slightly, “my contract’s up in a few months. So I’ve been poking around. Checking out other jobs. Nothing’s really grabbed me yet.”
“Are you looking for the same kind of thing?”
You hesitated. “I don’t know. I guess I thought I was. But every time I scroll through a job board I just feel… tired.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “That’s not nothing.”
You let out a breath, your thumb tracing the rim of your glass as your eyes instinctively avoided his. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not bad. I’m just not sure it’s meant for me, you know?”
Geto’s glass tilted slightly in his hand, the chocolate-coloured liquid catching a bit of the candlelight and flickering like something alive. Around you, the bar buzzed with a low hum—ice rattling in shakers, someone’s laugh punctuating the air too loudly, a spoon clinking against a ceramic mug.
“I think you always knew what didn’t feel right,” he said, voice warm and laced with a familiar sense of reassurance.
Your lips curved faintly, but the muscles around your mouth stayed still for a second longer. Then you exhaled through your nose, barely audible.
“I guess I just thought I’d have it figured out by now,” you said, setting your glass down with the kind of precision that didn’t match your words. The condensation left a faint ring on the napkin below, perfectly round.
His eyes followed the motion, then flicked back to yours.
A beat passed. Then another.
“And yet,” he said, mouth tugging slightly, “here you are. Still here, doing alright.”
You let out a dry laugh. “What a glowing review.”
He shrugged with one shoulder, the movement easy. “Surviving in this economy? That’s not easy work y’know. You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out.”
The words landed heavier than they should have, a prickle started at the base of your neck, low and slow, blooming upward until the heat kissed the tops of your cheeks.
You shifted in your seat, brushed a knuckle under your nose—trying your best to hide it, and dropped your gaze for a half-second to the condensation sliding lazily down the stem of your glass.
The feeling clung stubbornly, but you pushed through it, lifting your head again with a small, practiced smile—like wiping steam off a mirror and pretending you hadn’t noticed it clouding over in the first place.
You leaned forward a little, elbow propped on the table, fingers curled around the stem of your glass.
“What about you?” You asked, not quite letting the question linger. “You said you were doing like, charity outreach? Tell me about that, sounds just like something you’d do?”
You waited, but didn’t push—just like he would do
Geto glanced down and adjusted the watch on his wrist, as if it suddenly needed attention.
“Sort of,” he said. “I’m with a philanthropic division now. Private company. They fund youth programs—stuff like financial literacy workshops, math clubs in elementary schools, mentorship programs for kids who are good with numbers but don’t have a lot of support.”
His voice carried an unassuming fulfillment, shaped by something older than ambition. Across the small table, his hands moved gently as he spoke—one resting on the base of his glass, the other making the faintest, unconscious gesture you've always noticed he does when talking.
“I’m on the financial operations side of things,” he went on.
“Budgets, project proposals, making sure the funding actually gets to the right schools. It’s a lot of board meetings and a lot of spreadsheets, but... It’s good. It feels real.”
The bar lights shifted overhead as someone passed by, throwing a warm flicker across his face. It caught in the quiet focus in his eyes, the steadiness in his posture. His gaze didn’t move, but something softened in it—a flicker, almost imperceptible, like the last edge of a candle flame before it settles.
You watched him a second longer than you meant to, struck—maybe not by what he said, but by how he said it with that quiet conviction that never needed to be declared to feel present.
“It suits you,” you said, lightly—but not flippantly.
His eyes flicked to you, steady. Then down again. “You think so?”
“Mhm.” You swirled your glass, the condensation leaving a faint ring on the table. “Helping the next generation reach their potential. Making sure the math checks out. It’s a very selfless thing to do ya’ know…That’s very you.”
That earned you a subtle shift in his mouth—too brief to be a smile, too sincere to be anything else.
“You say that like you mean it,” he murmured.
You blinked, a little thrown—not by the words, but by how softly he said them.
“I do,” you replied, after a second. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
He nodded—slow, thoughtful. The kind of nod people do when they’re not just hearing you, but tucking the words away. You watched his jaw shift slightly, his gaze dipping for a second toward his glass, like the weight of your honesty had to be set down somewhere.
Then, quieter still: “Still. Nice to hear.”
You studied him—the deliberate calm of him, the way he filled silence like it was a language he’d grown fluent in. And for a second, the noise of the bar fell away. Just the warm light, the low clink of glasses, and him—sitting across from you like no time had passed at all.
“Yeah, well.” You reached for your glass again, fingertips brushing the wet ring it left behind. “You’re not that hard to root for.”
He let out a breath—one of those faint exhalations that lived somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. But his eyes stayed on you.
“You used to say I was annoying.”
You leaned back slightly, arching a brow. “I said you were cocky.” Your voice was playful, edged just lightly with something warmer. “Different thing.”
“Hm.” He tilted his head, like he was pretending to consider it, but there was a pull at the corner of his mouth again—more a flicker than a grin. The kind of expression that made you wonder what memory he’d just stepped into.
Your knees bumped beneath the table, a small, almost accidental thing. But neither of you pulled away.
The touch lingered, as quiet and steady as the rest of him.
Neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, comfortable—not heavy, but full, like something unfolding slowly between sips and glances and the warmth shared beneath the table.
Outside, the night went on.
But here, in the hush between words, something had shifted.
Life with Nanami feels like breathing after a long day : steady and safe. He’s not loud about affection, he shows it through consistency, care, and presence.
🌸 Mornings together are aestheticized:
He wakes before you, always. By the time you’re up, the smell of coffee or toast fills the air. He prefers slow mornings ,reading the paper, sitting across from you, the quiet hum of life before the world starts.
🌸 He values peace at home:
Nanami’s work is heavy, so home becomes his small paradise. He keeps things tidy, lights candles, puts on soft jazz or ambient music— it’s not luxury, it’s peace. You bring that peace to him.
🌸 His affection is subtle but sure:
He’ll adjust your scarf before you go out, hold your hand in public without hesitation, brush a thumb across your knuckles when words fail him. To him, love is in the details.
🌸 Cooking together is his love language:
He finds comfort in domestic routines. On weekends, he insists you cook together: chopping vegetables side by side, sleeves rolled up, quiet laughter when flour gets everywhere.
🌸 He listens. Really listens:
Even when tired, Nanami never half-listens. He sets his phone down, looks you in the eye, and takes in every word. He remembers the small things you mention (the book you wanted, the dessert you liked) and brings them home later without making a fuss.
🌸 Protective, but not possessive:
He doesn’t hover, he trusts you deeply. But if someone disrespects you, his calm tone alone could silence a room. Nanami protects your dignity the way others might protect treasure.
🌸 Evenings are quiet bliss:
He unravels by resting his head on your shoulder while you read or watch something together. The world fades out, and it’s just the two of you, the ticking of a clock, the scent of tea, and warmth shared in silence.
🌸 Arguments are rare, but real:
He doesn’t shout. When disagreements happen, he pauses, breathes, and talks it through rationally. Later, he’ll apologize if he thinks he spoke harshly — even if you’ve already forgiven him.
🌸 The way he says I love you:
Not every day, but when he does, it feels earned. Usually whispered at night, right before sleep, hand tracing lazy circles on your back.
🌸 Romanticizes growing old together:
He imagines you two in a small house with a garden, evenings spent with a cup of tea and quiet company. No noise or drama, just contentment, stability, and love that deepens with time.
